


Cards Against Moriarty

by FallenRichardBrook



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Implied!John/Reader, Implied!Sherlock/Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenRichardBrook/pseuds/FallenRichardBrook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly the reader is nowhere to be found, the only clue left is a black card, that reads "Cards Against Moriarty". Which horrid game does our brilliant psychopath have in mind this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cards Against Moriarty

" _Sherlock, have you seen Y/N?_ "  
John entered the living room with concern in his voice and a tense feeling in his stomach. Although he had looked in every room of 221b Baker Street as well as in 221a, you were nowhere to be found.  
  
" _In the kitchen._ "  While John has been concerned, Sherlock had stayed the cold brick he was: Sitting in front of his, **well actually John's** , Laptop and looking for a new case, he obviously hadn't even noticed that you were gone.  
  
" _Sherlock, she left the kitchen **in the morning** to go to the supermarket ...and **obviously hadn't been back since then**_ **.** "  
With the last sentence he had reached the table and slammed the device shut to get his flat mate’s attention. Slight anger boiled up inside him: wouldn't he have come back earlier from work, maybe nobody would have noticed that you were absent before the next morning, since often you had already gone to bed when he returned.  
  
" _So she's taking half an hour longer than usually for her groceries, **how frightening**._ " The detective muttered, trying to get the laptop back, but Watson didn't let it out of his grip glaring at the, now slightly confused, man.  
  
" _This was 7 a.m., Sherlock. Now it's 9. P.M.. **P.M.** Sherlock_!" The doctor was now openly yelling and slowly Sherlock seemed to understand what was going on ...quite late for a brilliant mastermind though.  
  
" _Have you tried calling her?_ "  
" _Have I tried...well **of course I tried calling here!** Her mobile was laying in the kitchen! I also called Lestrade and Molly and your brother …and would she have other friends I would have called them too, damn it Sherlock how can you stay so calm and indifferent? **God knows what might have happened to her!**_ **"**  
  
" _God knows what, yeah, but he won't tell us even though you cry significantly loud enough that he might hear it._ "  
He shifted a little in his chair, finally ignoring the laptop and focusing on the most acute problem. Once he had moved to his unique thinking position, he stared at the wall opposite of him. Just focused and intense was his stare; one might assume that the old wallpaper knew all he ached to find out and could tell him, would he only convince her to do so.

" _You also informed Mrs. Hudson, I assume?"_  
  
Watson nodded impatiently.  
  
" _If she's not with her we should..._ "  
He was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door, followed by the mild voice of the landlady herself.  
  
" _John, dear?_ ' When she opened the door, Sherlock greeted her with a glare and some not so polite gestures.

  
" ** _Not now, Mrs. Hudson, we are thinking: try to bother us later!_** "  
  
" _Oh Sherlock! I really do not know which kind of manners your mother had been teaching you.”_ She quickly shook her head in disapproval, before handing out a white envelope to Watson.

_“Anyways, John I wanted to give you this before but you were such stressed, somebody left it at the doorstep, can you imagine this?! … have you already found Y/N?”_

_“Mrs. Hudson, we won´t …”_

_“Sherlock.”_

John talked quietly but yet the two others turned back at him, even Sherlock sensing the sheer desperation in John´s voice. He held up the envelope, showing a small pencil drawn sign in the corner of the paper.

“ _Mrs. Hudson. Please leave us alone. **Now**_ **.** ” Without any further comments the lady leaved. The moment the door fell close behind her, Sherlock rushed closer to his friend and carefully took the envelop to obey it from all available angles. After a few silent minutes he laid it on the table next to him and stared at the sign: A Smiley. A small, happy smiley-face, carefully drawn on the envelope.

“ _Sherlock, do you think…?”_

The detective nodded solemnly, still staring at the piece of paper.

“ _Moriarty.”_

For a moment the men fell into silence: whatever happened, If Moriarty was involved there were terrible things about to happen.

“ _We should…”_

Once more Sherlock nodded, taking a paper knife and carefully opening the envelope.

What he found in there confused the detective deeply: A small stack of cards.

He picked up the card on top of the pile, carefully trying not to mess up the order and eying it suspiciously, obviously without a clue what he was holding in his hands. John´s face meanwhile had adapted to the delightful color of fresh snow.

“ _John, what is this supposed to mean? I´ve never seen such cards before? It looks like they would belong to some sort of game?”_

They were indeed for a game…a very special one. The first card was plain black, on each side there was only one sentence; written in a neat, white font.

“ _Cards Against Moriarty?”_  After reading the first sentence out loud, Sherlock turned the card and also read the second.

“ _Instructions: What would Jim do?”_ He stared at the card in bewilderment until he finally noticed that John had become remarkable quiet.

“ _Sherlock…this cards…”_

_“John do you know these cards?”_

_“Yes… no, well not exactly these ones but I know the game they belong to._ ”

Since Sherlock just stared at him expectantly, he tried to explain it as good as possible.

“ _You´re right, it´s a card game. A very weird one to be exactly but to describe it: Every player gets a hand of five white cards, the “answer-cards,” then a black card is played and each of the players has to play one of his white cards: the one, he thinks that suits best as answer._

_Usually the black cards are questions or incomplete sentences…this one here seems to be the instruction card.”_

_“I´m not even gonna ask, what for you have such irrelevant knowledge. Anyways I suppose these…”_ he took the other cards and laid them on the table; one black and five white cards.

 “… _are our hand then? And the instructions are to play the cards, Moriarty would play, clear enough.”_

The black card read:

“Step 1: ___, Step 2: ____, Step 3: Profit.”

“ _Oh no…”_

Even John recognized instantly which of the white cards belonged in the blank spaces. Sherlock picked out the correct ones, quietly muttering the answer in the progress.

“ _Step 1: **Kidnap Y/N,** Step 2: **Get Sherl☺**_ ** _ck!_** _, Step 3: Profit. …he has Y/N._ ”

 

“ _Yes but **where is she**? How can we get her back? Sherlock, we know why she is gone, but we don´t have any clue…_ ”

 

“ _Well, actually **we do**_ **.** ”

 

The detective has turned around the two answer-cards and pointed at some numbers below the “Cards Against Moriarty”-font.

 

“ _Those are coordinates.”_

 

Five minutes later the men had hurried out of the flat and hired a cab, trying to get there as fast as possible…wherever ` _there_ ´ was.

 

“ _Do you think it is a good idea to look for the coordinates all alone? We could as well call Lestrade…”_

 

Sherlock brushed this idea beside with a determined gesture.

“ _He has Y/N and might do hell knows what to her, calling the police would, at the best, bring her in more danger.”_

When they left the cab, John inspected the place with narrowed eyes: They had reached the exact coordinates, a spot on the outer edge of London, and were now standing in front of an abandoned hospital.

“ _A terrible Drama Queen, maybe even worse than you Sherlock.”_

The addressed one just ignored the comment and stepped to the main entrance: a big, brown envelope was pinned to the door.

Quickly he opened it, revealing a black card and five white counterparts.

 

“ _What does it read?”_

Watson stared over his companions shoulder but wasn´t able to read the small text from the distance.

 

“ _A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without___”_

 

When Sherlock picked one of the white cards, the doctor became pale and swallowed hard.

 

“ _Sherlock are you **sure,** this card…_”

 

“ _Yes, John. A romantic candlelit dinner would be incomplete without **murder**_.”

 

The men shared worried looks, then Sherlock opened the front door, instantly heading in direction of the stairs.

 

" _The Candlelit dinner...I suppose he wants us in the cafeteria._ "

 

" _Dinner..._ " John hurried after Sherlock, still confused about the last card´s wording. " _Does this mean he sees this as a date? **What is wrong with this man?** "_

 

" _Far too much, John. And I fear if we want Y/N back unhurt, **we have to be fast!**_ " They had finally reached the first floor, ripping the door to the cafeteria open...and revealing an empty room. There were neither chairs nor desks in the abandoned room, only another brown envelope lying in the center of the room.

 

" ** _Another one!"_** Watson swore with narrowed eyes, but Sherlock was faster with picking it up. And was there a smile on his face?

 

" _Sherlock **you do enjoy this! Y/N might be in danger and you...!**_ "

 

" _Shh, John I have **to think.** "_

 

He held out the black card and had found the fitting white one within seconds.

 

" _What ended my last relationship? ___ .... **Death**_ "

 

" _Sherlock..."_

 

" _Don´t worry John, I have everything under control, like I said._.."

 

" _Yeah like you said. But I say this is too dangerous we have to call Scotland Yard and..._ "

 

" _Calm, John, calm! I already texted Lestrade when we left Baker street. He should be here by any minute._ "

 

The Doctor let out a frustrated sigh, drawing a sheepishly grin from his friend.

 

" _And now come we have to go in the basement!"_

 

" _The **basement?**_ " He didn´t receive an answer, since Sherlock had already hurried out of the room.

 

Only a few minutes later he understood what was the matter, when he reached Sherlock: standing in front of a door with the word "morgue" written on it.

 

The door was closed, a heavy chain hanging in front of it. The chain was closed with a lock: requiring a number code to open it.

 

Two envelopes where pinned at the door and Sherlock quickly opened the left one.

 

" _What´s that noise? ___!_ "

 

When the detective didn´t say anything, John let his eyes wander over the white cards ...but he found only one that would fit in the blank space.

 

" **Explosions**." He muttered with a horrified expression.

 

" _There is a number on the backside... **1015\. John how late is it!**?_ "

 

" _It´s..."_ a glance on his wristwatch revealed the meaning of Moriarty´s hint.

" ** _It is 10.08 pm. Sherlock!_** "

 

He nodded understandingly and ripped the last envelope open: it certainly would reveal the code to open the door and hopefully in time.

 

" ** _What?_**!" John cried in surprise, desperation taking grip of his heart.

 

" _Sherlock, those are at least what? **Fifty white cards? And only one black one!** What does it read?"_

 

" _It reads... **Make a Haiku**."_

 

In one swift moment the detective had fallen on his knees, scattering the cards in front of him on the ground so he could see all of them at once.

 

" _Sherlock, **think fast!** "_

 

" _I am thinking, John **! I am**! It does...urgh **, it has to be**..._ " He leafed through the cards, hectic moving, and rearranging them again and again, before he finally let out a triumphant cry.

 

" _John! **This is it!"**_ While he jumped to the door and quickly undid the lock and the chain, John threw a glance on the "haiku.”

 

"Life is so boring

Distraction´s nice, for winning

this, dear YN/N´s your price."

 

The code worked and the men stormed into the room, finding you, unconscious, tied to one of the desks, who were usually reserved for the already dead. The even more horrid thing was the amount of c4 strapped to the desk next to you.

 

" ** _Sherlock it has a timer!_** " Watsons scream lead Sherlock to untie you faster and throw you, due to your current condition, over his shoulder before sprinting out of the building.

 

The second the men had left the building, both out of breath from running their bodies trembling from adrenaline, a deafening noise filled the air. Windows were bursting and the ground was shaken by the massive detonation.

 

The noise was loud enough to rip you out of your state, making you open your eyes and look around in confusion. Carefully Sherlock put you on your feet, helping you to stay upright when you almost collapsed.

 

" _What happened?"_ You mumbled. Your head was dizzy, your whole body aching and you had no idea where you were. The last thing you remembered was leaving the supermarket...

 

 _"I just left the market and suddenly I was pulled in an alley... somebody was pressing a handkerchief in my face... what happened? ..and **why** are we in front of a burning hospital?_"

 

Sherlock didn´t answer, he just looked at you with a genuine smile. A moment later John was pulling you in a deep hug, leaving you even more confused.

 

" ** _Ah YN/N!_** _I´ll explain everything later, but for now...It´s so great to have you here! **All awake and unharmed!** " _He pulled away a bit to flash a bright smile at you, before looking back at mentioned building.

 

" _The building...uh that is indeed an issue."_

 

Luckily, there were finally some police cars driving on the property: the first car stopped right in front of you.

A devastated Greg jumped out of the vehicle, hurrying to the three figures who just had escaped their, far too early, death.

 

" _Sherlock, John! All good gods, you are unhurt? YN/N!? What are you doing here, **are you alright,** **and what in Jove´s name happened**?_ "

He looked at the burning building, then back at you, serious concern in his eyes.

 

" _Fire brigade and an ambulance are already on their way_."

He then glanced at Sherlock expectantly.

 

" _I will explain this later."_ the detective briefly announced. " _First we should get Y/N away from here._ "

Said, done. After assuring that you were, so far, okay, Greg offered you his arm with the intention to bring you to his car so you could sit down at least.

You were stopped when Sherlock suddenly gave an outcry, making you turn around in confusion.

 

 

" ** _Y/N!"_** Suddenly his hand was inside the back pocket of your jeans.

 

" _Sherlock! **What the hell do you think are you doing there!**?"_

 

He ignored your complaints and, much to your surprise, pulled out something of your pocket: a small black card of whom you couldn´t remember to have put in there. Also you wondered how he had noticed that there was something odd in your pocket.

 

The four of you obeyed the card in Sherlock´s hands curiously, reading the small white font with narrowed eyes.

 

" ** _Congrats Sherlock. You won one Awesome-Point."_**


End file.
